Category: food

Sheryl & the Chocolate Factory

Every year, Toronto holds a city-wide festival during the last weekend in May called Doors Open where the public gets to go on free mini-tours of places they might not otherwise have the opportunity to see. Many of these buildings are ones that the public can get into if they have a reason to be there, either because they’re on a paid tour, or because they have business of some sort in the place. Few people have reason or opportunity to wander through a chocolate factory, though, so when the news came out that Cadbury was going to open the doors of its Toronto factory as part of Doors Open, people were excited. Unfortunately, while the concept of Doors Open is a good one, designed to encourage an appreciation for historical and architecturally unique buildings, what we got at the Cadbury’s factory doesn’t really even count as a “tour”.

Now I didn’t go expecting to see Oompa-Loompas. I didn’t expect to be greeted by Johnny Depp in a top hat. I didn’t figure there would be a river of chocolate. But on a “tour” of a chocolate factory, I do kind of expect to see some chocolate getting made.

At least put in a nice plate-glass window so we can watch the bars of chocolate whizzing by.

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We need more eye of newt

You know, you can take the girl outta the goth; you can destroy her Sisters of Mercy albums, you can slather her in cold cream and get all that black gunk off her face, you can take her bat-shaped purse away, you can take her black clothes and… well, nevermind that. But sometimes you just can’t take the goth outta the girl.

Such is my love for Charles Addams. So when Greg called me up to tell me he was spending foolish amounts of money on the Deadwood DVD box set, he softened the blow and assured my co-operation by informing me that he had also ordered me the Charles Addams cookbook.

It’s not really a cookbook. It’s actually a collection of his food-related cartoons (many of which feature the Addams family characters), interspersed with recipes for various wacky and unappealing delicacies such as blood pudding, stewed pigeon and potted squirrel.

About half of the cartoons are new to me, many mere sketches that have never been published. I’ve got four or five Charles Addams books, so to find new stuff is quite delightful.

I doubt I’ll be making stuffed beef hearts any time soon, but the “Mushrooms Fester” sounds quite good, and there’s even a recipe for fiddlehead ferns, although if you followed the directions, they’d be overcooked and underseasoned.

I still don’t get how Morticia was ever able to cook anything without setting those sleeves on fire, but then she probably enjoyed it.

How Sweet It Is

At first, we weren’t sure we had read it right. Scrolling across the screen on the 24-hour news channel was information about a Sweets Expo at the Toronto Convention Centre. It took some investigating to finally find the website: http://www.sweetsexpo.ca. No, Beavis and Butthead, not “sweet sex po”, get your minds out of the gutter. Sweets Expo, aka, a room full of candy.

Bright and early, there we were, headed into the convention centre, the smell of sugar surrounding us. However, had it not been for two things, the Sweets Expo would have left a rather sour taste in my mouth.

First of all, it hadn’t been especially well-promoted, as far as we could tell. That fast-moving news scroll was the only mention we had seen of the thing, and judging by the turnout, not many other people knew about it either. And apparently, the same amount of effort that went into promotion went into attracting exhibitors. It was considerably smaller than we expected, and with a couple of exceptions the calibre of product wasn’t that great. None of the many Toronto area chocolatiers were present; Stubbs, Soma and JS BonBon were not to be found. There were also none of the chain, or indie, candy stores – no Sugar Mountain, Tutti Frutti, Nutty Chocolatier or Candy Island. Also, no big brand names – no Nestle, no Cadbury.

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Little Bitter Things

Our groovy multicultural supermarket had stacks of amaretti in their Italian section last night when we were buying groceries. I bought two packages and am considering going back for more.

The word amaretti is Italian for “little, bitter things”. Problem is, most amaretti are made from sweet almonds which are not really bitter at all.

My first encounter with the meringue-based cookie came in the late 80s when my then-boyfriend lived next door to an Italian bakery. We would buy huge boxes of their amaretti, along with delicious marzipan. These amaretti were larger, crunchy on the outside, soft and almost pasty on the inside. Like most amaretti made in North America, they were made with almonds.

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The Trouble With Cupcakes

What? Trouble with cupcakes? Surely I must be delusional or trying to make a bad joke! How could there be anything wrong with the most perfect and wonderful food in the world?

The trouble with cupcakes is the same trouble I have with pie, cake or any other pastry that comes in a large quantity (ie. more than two servings); it’s too much for two people to eat. Now Greg and I like our pie. Cupcakes too. But a whole batch of the same type of cupcake inevitably gets boring. Just as many slices of the same kind of pie gets boring day after day. Variety is the spice of life, or so they say.

So yesterday I got stupid innovative, and turned one batch of cupcakes into six different flavours. I also learned that a lot of hours bent over fussy cupcakes while standing on a concrete floor is deadly on the back; if I recall correctly, this is why I ended up not becoming a pastry chef in the first place – because of the back problems.

However, I now have half a dozen different types of cupcakes, and a guarantee that we won’t be bored. I also have a helluva lot of dirty bowls and spoons. D’oh!

Clockwise from upper left: lemon, anise, chocolate orange, almond, chocolate mint. Centre – mocha cream.

The Roundabout Route to the Best Damned Iced Coffee

So far, we are digging apartment living. Far more than we ever thought we would.

The one thing that is mildly annoying is the door buzzer system. Like most apartments, when visitors show up, they use the phone at the front door to dial a code which rings the phone in our apartment so I can push a button and let them in. Drunk people, however, or the mildly dyslexic, can’t always operate this system efficiently, which is why I was woken up in the middle of the night to the sound of the door phone ringing (we have a phone just for the door as we use cell phones and not a landline – thus that phone is always the door). As I wasn’t expecting anyone at 2am on a Wednesday night, I didn’t bother to answer it, but it screwed up my sleep pattern all the same.

Come morning, I was in one of those unshakeable fogs, and while I managed to make coffee, the process of making breakfast was insurmountable. Greg had been out with the beer geeks last night and needed a good greasy breakfast, and so we abandoned our coffee and headed to our local greasy spoon for some eggs and pancakes (and let me just say – yay for local greasy spoons that open at 7am so you can have your fix before a busy work day!).

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Detox Day 3 – Uncle!

It was the parmesan cheese that did me in. I am sad and pathetic and weak.

I had made a quinoa and kamut pasta with sauteed rapini and without even thinking about it, sprinkled the parm across the top. D’oh! As the point of the whole exercise was to keep the body free of all foods that were potential toxins, I wasn’t quite sure what to do. In theory, I should start all over again, not just brush off what I could and not worry about it.

Then this morning, the coffee called to me. “Sheryl…” it whispered. “You know you want me. I’m a delightful dark roast of Tanzanian peaberry beans. You made me yourself in your little roaster. Did you know that organic coffee is actually an ANTIoxidant and has a plethora of healthful properties? Remember that study that showed that women who drank a cup of coffee per day had a lower rate of Alzheimers disease?” And then the coffee won. Because even greater than my fear of being fat, cancerous and full of illness is my fear of being eighty and not remembering where I left my teeth.

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Detox Day 2 – Stop Eating My Balls!

I understand now why people doing detox for drugs and alcohol get sent off to be locked up and monitored 24/7. It’s not because they might cheat, it’s not because they might hurt themselves or others. No, it’s totally to keep other people with the good shit away from them. Because there’s nothing worse than trying to break your crack habit when everyone around you has a big ol’ pipe hanging out of their mouths.

A food detox is even worse because you can’t go cold turkey and neither can anyone else. You’ve got to eat and so do the folks around you. And they just might choose to eat a big plate of cheese and crackers washed down with a tasty glass of beer, all while you sit in the corner gnawing on an apple that turns out to be half-rotten. And then, the travesty of all travesties, they take the one sweet treat you’ve made for yourself so you won’t go insane, and eat those too!

I love my husband, I really do. He’s been supportive of me in every way, no matter what cockamamie idea I come up with, no matter what scheme I develop. He is down with the detox diet, just as long as I continue to make him tasty food. Now, as I’ve mentioned elsewhere, we eat a pretty healthy diet for the most part, so the detox meals I’ve been serving up so far are not rare or unusual. So far, hubby is happy. However, he has the option of eating additional foods, or non-detox foods, whereas I don’t, at least while I’m working on this experiment. Which is why when I found him with his grubby little hand in the container of date and coconut balls this morning, I went a little ballistic. That’s my only source of sugar, yo. I have willingly given up cupcakes, candy and chocolate – unless I start mainlining maple syrup, all I’ve got are those little balls of ground-up dried fruit. Yes, they are tasty and healthy and we should have some in the house all the time, I agree. But those ones, right there, those fuckers are MINE.

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Channel Surfing

Somewhere in the transfer of cable services from home A to home B, we ended up with a bunch of cable channels we didn’t have before. Besides the fact that we are cheapasses and refuse to pay for a bunch of channels that we mostly don’t watch, we made the well-thought-out decision to cancel all but basic cable a few years back for one specific reason.

I yell at the Food Network.

Honestly, I am flabberghasted that there are unsuspecting housewives out there, tuning in to the Food Network, thinking that they’re going to get decent advice on anything to do with cooking.

(NOTE – with the possible exception of Alton Brown. He’s an alright guy.)

Of course, the extra channels that we are now burdened with include the Food Network, and I have quickly gotten sucked in again. It’s been a few years, so many of the faces are new (although I see that BAM! guy is still there, mucking things up), but it’s reassuring to see that one can get a job hosting a cooking show without any damn idea of how to cook. Note that many of the people I mention below appear on the Canadian Food Network so you US folks might not recognize everyone. [1]

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